by David
When Diane drove up in her car, a uniformed airman with a sidearm motioned her to stop. After a quick look at her Bureau ID and Lee's state police badge, the airman glanced at a man in a long coat who was standing inside the doorway of the guardhouse to their right. It was Logan, who nodded back. "Pull into the parking area, ma'am, sir," the airman barked, then stepped back to focus his attention on the next vehicle in line.
A few minutes later, Logan, Diane, and Lee were seated on chairs inside one of the small rooms of the guardhouse, a holding and interview area containing little more than an overhead light, a wooden desk, and a fourth wooden folding chair leaning against a wall. Nods and one- or two-word greetings had been sufficient to this point.
Without preamble, Logan began. "We've been monitoring traffic to your business Web site and have had some hits with the links concerning your credentials and phony backgrounds—your legends. Somebody, probably your contacts, have checked up on you. I've already looked over the report from the meeting you had last night with the suspects. You think they'll let you do business with them?" he asked, glancing at his watch.
"We've got a chance, sir." Diane shrugged. "There's a fourth chair. Are we waiting for someone?"
"He's coming now, I think," Lee said, hearing a car door slam somewhere close by. "My lieutenant?"
Just then Richmond knocked on the door, entering at the same time. He was wearing his charcoal gray state police uniform and had to duck to avoid knocking off his cap.
"Sorry I'm a few minutes late. Long haul from Cruces and there was a rollover accident south of T or C. I stopped to help the locals for a little bit," Richmond said with a slight southeastern New Mexico accent reminiscent of West Texas.
Logan looked up at the red-haired officer with raised eyebrows. "T or C?"
"Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Used to be called Hot Springs until that TV show got them to change their name," Lee explained.
"Before my time." Diane shrugged, catching Lee's eye to make sure he got the joke, which only he would appreciate.
"Whatever. Okay, people, I've got some other intel you definitely have to hear. I received some reports from an agency that was curiously silent and seemingly uninformed during the entire German-terrorist episode last month. Now we finally know why they've been holding out on us."
"Not the U.S. Air Force?" Richmond asked.
"No. I picked this site for security only." Logan shook his head. "I'm talking about the Agency—the CIA."
Lee nodded. "Those rumors about Muller and his people being part of some mercenary group or terrorists must have some substance to them. The CIA knew about it but stonewalled. Am I close?"
Logan looked at him curiously. "Real close. Muller's group was in reality being led by someone else—another German named Jochen Pfeiffer, or his wife Elka. We know the other couple, the Plummers, were married, and the CIA says they were basically a small family group—closemouthed, well trained, and obviously very loyal to each other. They did freelance work, mainly black-bag jobs and assassinations for the intelligence services of what the CIA calls 'friendly governments.'"
Diane nodded to Lee. She understood how effective a group of vampires could be, given their physical abilities and night vision.
"Well, something happened to finally motivate the CIA to come clean about what they know," Logan continued. "A CIA case officer operating out of a Middle Eastern country managed to acquire Pfeiffer's family as assets. The plan was to have them eliminate some of Iraq's best generals and increase tension among their military by making it look like an inside job. It was hoped that would make it possible to manipulate the Iraqi leadership into replacing the dead officers with politically reliable but less capable men, reducing the effectiveness of their military."
Lee was beginning to suspect a deeper connection, considering what they'd already heard, but he remained silent and Logan continued. "Jochen Pfeiffer was captured southwest of Baghdad when one of the Iraqis he'd recruited blew the operation. The CIA denied everything and pulled out their man, leaving Pfeiffer on his own. But they didn't count on Pfeiffer's wife, Elka, who may really be the brains behind their operation. Elka cut a deal with Iraq, offering to procure some weapons-grade plutonium and trade it for Jochen's release. Enter Fort Wingate, New Mexico."
"Wait a minute. That 'enriched uranium' in the cover story was really plutonium?" Richmond growled. "Did you know that?" Richmond looked at Lee, who shrugged.
"Sorry, it was on a need-to-know." Logan's apology was automatic. "If word ever got out about how dangerous that stash was, half the citizens of New Mexico would be up in arms. The original storage box was placed in a more up-to-date container on-site and moved along with some of the soil that had surrounded it to a storage facility near here." Logan motioned with his head in the general direction of the Manzano Mountains, at the eastern perimeter of the base. The area was known to be filled with deep bunkers that had been used to store nuclear weapons for decades.
"So Muller and the Plummers came to New Mexico, somehow having learned about the plutonium that had been missing since 1945," Diane added. "Any idea how they knew about it and where it lay hidden?" She could tell even without looking at Lee that he was also interested in the official story.
"Speculation abounds," Logan answered, "but the best answer is that the Germans had somebody on the inside way back during the days of the Manhattan Project. One of the few scientists still alive who was part of the project remembers their first batch of plutonium was lost in transit to Los Alamos. But that was so deeply covered up he never found out what happened."
"You still haven't told us why the CIA finally spilled the beans," Lee said.
"I'm coming to that. The CIA's 'asset,' Jochen Pfeiffer, was killed by the Iraqis when they failed to get the plutonium. After stonewalling about Muller and his cohorts, the CIA finally contacted the Bureau in Washington about a new problem that has cropped up as a result of their fiasco in Iraq. This problem leads straight to New Mexico."
Lee looked at Diane, who had a definite "oh shit" expression on her face. "You mentioned Elka Pfeiffer. Don't tell me she's managed to find her way to New Mexico and is looking for whoever is responsible for killing her people."
Logan cursed, and nearly stood, glaring at Lee. "How did you know that? Your sources always seem to be better than mine."
Lee nearly laughed. "My sources are between my ears. Muller was in contact with them, according to the NSA or whoever it is that bugs everyone's E-mail. Muller must have told her about us. After all, he carjacked Agent Lopez."
Diane nodded. "It all fits. But I have two questions. Do you think a mercenary would risk everything just for revenge, and secondly, did she come alone?"
"And how did she get into New Mexico, and when?" Richmond piped in.
Logan grumbled. "I'll tell you what we think we know. Elka Pfeiffer entered the country at Dallas, via Mexico City. Her name was flagged when she used her passport. An image was captured on camera and compared with a photo the CIA case officer managed to take of her when he was recruiting Jochen.
"That was when the CIA finally, as Officer Hawk put it, spilled the beans." Logan glanced from Lee to Diane, then to Richmond. "Except they moved just a few hours too late to pick up Elka Pfeiffer."
"The final destination for Elka Pfeiffer was Albuquerque, New Mexico?" Lee asked.
"Right. Her position as a Mercedes sales rep has allowed her to travel all over the world, including the Middle East. Mercedes sells a lot of vehicles in that part of the world," Logan added.
"Any idea where she is now?" Diane asked.
"We just don't know," Logan said. "But we have people looking for her." He handed them each a photograph. "Here's what she looked like in Dallas."
Lee quickly memorized the image. Elka looked a lot like Hans. "Was Elka related to the man we knew as Wolfgang Muller?"
"I see it too, Lee. Maybe his sister?" Diane looked at Logan.
"I'll ask the Agency and find out what they ha
ve on that." Logan took out a small notebook and wrote it down.
"I suppose you have special agents questioning airline employees, including the flight crew, and checking to see if she rented a car or took a cab or shuttle?" Diane asked. "Or maybe she had a Mercedes waiting for her from a local dealer?"
"All of that is in the works," Logan said.
"If she wanted to make it tougher, she might have stolen a vehicle right from the lot. People often keep their parking-lot tickets in the vehicle, and she could have found one in a few minutes. With the skills she probably has, getting into the car wouldn't be too hard," Lee said.
"I'll check the stolen vehicle reports," Richmond said.
"What else should we know?" Lee asked Logan.
Logan scowled and, after pausing to collect his thoughts, added, "The CIA case officer who recruited Pfeiffer and his group of mercenaries retired as soon as he returned to the States. He knew his career had ended, probably, once Jochen Pfeiffer was killed by the Iraqis."
Lee said nothing. He'd already known about Jochen, who'd apparently chosen to live out his life as a mortal instead of having his wife turn him. The fact that he'd been able to go out in the daytime, unrestricted by the limitations of sunblock, had served his family well.
"Who is the CIA man, and where is he now?" Diane asked.
"His name is Paul Rogers, and he's a security consultant at Los Alamos. We've contacted Rogers via a secure line and he now knows Elka Pfeiffer is in the area," Logan answered. "The Bureau offered to provide him with twenty-four-hour protection, but he declined, saying that the lab security around him should be enough."
"Confident bastard," Richmond muttered.
"That was my impression too, but we'd rather use our resources tracking down the German woman than babysitting ex-spooks," Logan said, then stood. "To add another complication to this situation, the President of the United States is coming to Albuquerque for a brief ceremony and photo op at the airport. The visit highlights funding for high-tech research, so lab honchos from around the state will be here. Security will be really tight, and because there's always a chance that Elka is targeting the President instead of Rogers, we've clued in the Secret Service. Naturally we have to commit most of our resources to protecting the President, though, more likely, Pfeiffer is gunning for Rogers or you two. Watch your backs."
"Always," Diane responded. "One more thing? Can you give us a number for Rogers, and maybe an address?"
Logan looked at his notebook and read them the information. All three, including Lieutenant Richmond, wrote it down.
"Okay, then let's get to it, people," Logan said, shaking hands with everyone, including Lee, who'd become used to the Anglo custom despite old Navajo taboos about touching strangers.
Five minutes later, Lee and Diane were on Girard Avenue heading west toward the valley. Within another ten minutes, they were inside a fast-food restaurant, ordering breakfast. Diane picked up the food while Lee stood back, keeping watch. They had decided against drive-up windows, where it would be too easy for ambush vehicles to trap them front and rear. Thickly coated with sunblock, even a full vampire might risk leaping out of a car or van for a hit.
The advantage they had, Lee knew, was that Elka Pfeiffer and anyone who might be working with her didn't know where they were and what they were doing. It was doubtful that Elka would even know for sure what they looked like, though she'd probably read a description given to her by Muller. All things considered, the biggest danger they were facing at the moment was from the Silver Eagle group, who knew where their office was located and what they looked like.
Intending to eat breakfast at their office, they drove on and approached from the rear of the building. Lee examined the back door and the locks. He'd placed a thin piece of clear plastic by the door hinge and that was still in place. The trace of dust he'd placed on the doorknob hadn't been disturbed with a handprint either. They had an internal zone alarm system which required an entry code to disarm, and that too was undisturbed.
"If anyone came in, it wasn't through this door," Lee announced.
Diane turned off the alarm by punching in a number code, and Lee entered first, flipping on the lights for Diane's benefit as he made a quick sweep of the place.
"Someone slipped a note under our door," Diane called from the front room. "Let me put on some gloves before I open it up."
"I'll bring in the food," Lee replied, then carried in the sacks containing the breakfast burritos, orange juice, and blueberry muffins. Diane joined him in the back office with the note, holding it gingerly by the edge as he was setting the food on the desk. He locked the back door while she stepped into the rest room and fished out a pair of latex gloves from a small box.
"Still smells like bleach in there," Diane grumbled as she reappeared, closing the new door Lee had installed.
"It was a good idea to spray the place down. The bleach will denature any DNA enough to disguise whatever blood might remain unseen," Lee said, looking at the folded piece of lined paper, identical to that used in spiral notebooks.
Diane unfolded the paper. It was a typed list of silversmithing and jewelry-making supplies with a price-per-unit given. At the top of the paper were the words "Write down how much of each you want to buy. The price includes your discount. Someone will come by today to pick up this paper and tell you when your order will be delivered."
"If we check for fingerprints the Silver Eagle people will know when they pick up the note," Diane pointed out, setting the paper on the counter, then removing her gloves.
Lee started to set out their breakfast. "Then forget the fingerprints. We'll make a copy of the note after we fill out the order. That's all we'll have."
"How long do you think it'll take us to deplete their current stock so they'll have to make another smuggling run?" Diane asked, turning to add water from the small sink to their office coffeemaker.
"Let's place the mother of all orders, heavy on the Mexican turquoise, and try to deplete their inventory right now. It'll take most of our capital, but if their greed exceeds their caution, we'll be able to pull it off," Lee said, handing her a package of coffee grounds from a box on a small shelf.
"That means we'll have to start staking out Frank's Automotive on a twenty-four-hour basis once they get the order. But what if the skinwalkers who handle this end of the business aren't the ones who smuggle the goods in from Mexico?" she asked.
"We'll cover all the bases just in case. Marie or whoever leads the pack will still have to contact whoever she's dealing with in Mexico. Whether that's done by telephone, or, more likely, in person, someone will have to place the order. But my guess is the smugglers and the dealers are one and the same. I've never seen a pack of skinwalkers with more than a half-dozen people. Unlike real wolf packs, which may have as many as fifteen or sixteen animals, skinwalker packs that large are really too conspicuous. And except for an occasional outsider like Angela, they rarely take in someone from another pack. They're too territorial to cooperate with other skinwalkers. Experience tells me that we've seen all but one or two of the Silver Eagles," Lee answered.
"Okay, assuming you're right, we have Marie, Raymus, Stump, Angela, Long-hair, and the other two couriers we saw leave Frank's Automotive the other day. That would total seven now, with at least one of them a newbie—Angela. Sound about right?"
"Considering the fact that this pack is more or less urban, yes. They may or may not live in the same house, but they will live close to each other. Never in apartment complexes, though; too many strangers who might get curious."
"You've certainly done your homework on these creatures, haven't you?"
Lee nodded. "But I'm still learning. I just hope I haven't missed a detail that'll turn out to be my death sentence."
"From your lips to God's ears. Now why don't you refresh your Buckscent in case one of them just happens to drop by. Then we can eat breakfast. Afterward, I'll call my boss and arrange for the monitoring to begin on the Silver Eagle tele
phone. Agreed?"
Lee nodded. "And I'll get the order ready for them. You double-check it, then we'll wait for the pickup."
CHAPTER 12
« ^ »
The barrel-chested Navajo man in his mid-twenties who came to pick up their order after lunch wasn't one they'd met, but both recognized him as one of the men they'd seen leaving Frank's Automotive with a cardboard box.
"Yáat'ééh, friend," Lee nodded. "How may we help you?"
The man didn't speak for a moment. Instead, he stood there checking out their layout and security. "No cameras?" the man asked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Lee, then Diane.
Diane shrugged. "We prefer guns."
Lee wordlessly placed his pistol down on the counter, his hand over it.
The Navajo man held his hands out, palms up. "Hey, it's cool. I'm just here to pick up your order."
Diane reached under the counter, brought out an envelope with their letterhead on it, and handed it to him.
"That's more like it." The man took the purchase order out of the business envelope, looked at it quickly, then smiled.
He placed the empty envelope in front of Diane, wrote a number on it with a felt-tip marker, then slid it slowly across to her. Their order went into his shirt pocket along with the marker. "This is all the paperwork we need. Don't worry, I'll remember this came from you two. Just have the cash ready when I make the delivery."
"When will that be?" Lee almost smiled. Finally it looked like they were about to get some real physical evidence on this investigation.
He shrugged. "Usually afternoon the next day, but this is a big list. I don't know if we have it all, so it might take two or three days. But have the money ready tomorrow anyway, just in case I'm wrong about that."
"Is that it?" Diane asked.
"Yeah. Call the number on the envelope before noon from now on when you need something. You kept a copy of our list, right?"
